


Ling's Jade Eyes

by RCs Many Posts (Parker4131970)



Category: due South
Genre: Asian-American Character, F/M, Kidnapping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-25
Updated: 2018-04-25
Packaged: 2019-04-27 16:57:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 17,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14430075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Parker4131970/pseuds/RCs%20Many%20Posts
Summary: Fraser finds himself drawn to a young woman with the most intriguing eyes.





	1. Into the Night

 

“ _Some nights are made for torture, or reflection, or the savoring of loneliness.”  
― _

Ben sat by the window, staring out into the snow drifts beyond the milky window panes of the Canadian Consulate. He'd been in Chicago for so long he'd almost forgotten what real, northern snow smelled like. Benton Fraser had forgotten a lot of things about the Yukon. He'd forgotten how simple life was before heading south. There hadn't been Inspector Meg Thatcher, no Ray V or Ray K, no Francesca, and no Victoria to play his heart strings as easily as he played guitar chords.

Dief laid on the plush, consulate carpet at Ben's feet. The half wolf looked up at his human companion. He could sense the Mountie’s loneliness so he laid his head on his keeper's knee. Dief's brown, amber shot eyes rolled around to look up at Benton's blue ones.

“I know, I shouldn't wallow,” Ben sighed, scratching between the wolf's ears. “What am I supposed to do, Diefenbaker, life does not fall into place for some people.” A turned ear and a skeptical groan from the wolf disagreed.

“Well, Victoria is definitely out of the question, she's long gone. Francesca, well, we won't even go there, so that only leaves Inspector Thatcher, and her feelings toward me are vague at best.” Benton shrugged, mildly irritated with his white, furry friend. Equally irritated, Diefenbaker pulled away, choosing to lay on the carpet at Ben's feet. “Fine, be that way, wait until the next time you have a problem.” Benton pushed himself up from the arm chair, his arms crossed over his chest. Snow lazily drifted toward the ground outside. “I don't know why I bother talking to you anyway, you choose a mate based on how she smells.” Benton lamented, more irritated at himself than at Diefenbaker.

“The wolf has a point, son, you haven’t even bothered to sniff the wind for a potential mate in ages.” Fraser Sr. spoke from out of the closet. He wore his dress uniform, an apple in one hand and his hunting knife in the other.

“Wonderful, comments from the peanut gallery,” Ben groused, his thumb smoothing one brow.

“I heard that. I'm dead, not hard of hearing.” Bob Fraser waved the roughly twenty centimeter, stainless steel blade at his son.

“The two of you will be the downfall of me yet.” Ben shook his head as if to brush away the fog.

“You talk to the wolf and me because you spend too much time alone, son.” The elder Fraser popped a wedge of apple in his mouth.

Benton didn't know any other way to be; to exist. By nature he was solitary. As a child his father had been mostly an absent widower. As much as his grandparents loved him, Benton had still been an only child.

“Things are done differently here in Chicago, Dad. I find myself unequipped to deal with the dating world here.” Benton shoved his hands down into his uniform pants pockets. Bob Fraser and Diefenbaker looked at him doubtfully.

“Then go back to the Yukon for Pete's sake. The women there are simple enough, I mean if Buck Frobisher can find a wife, any dumb cluck can.” Bob blustered, his son had always been stubborn. “Besides, you aren't getting any younger you know.”

Benton could have wrung his father's neck, if he hadn't already been dead.

“I'm going to quit talking to either of you.” Benton threw his hands up in disgust.

“Life is what you make of it, and you are making yourself lonely.” Bob Fraser shook his gray head.

Benton just stared out the window at the piling snow. How was it supposed to be for him; a Mountie? Where did he find a woman he had anything in common with? The few he had met had been married. Benton pinched the bridge of his nose, a groan of disgust escaping his throat.

“How can I be lonely, I will always have the two of you to talk with.” Benton shrugged and walked away.

**A Few Hours Later ...**

Turnbull hummed to himself as he cross referenced Inspector Thatcher's files by date and content. Fraser ambled out into the Inspector's office, looking for someone to talk to who didn't speak bark or wasn't dead.

“Good afternoon, Constable Fraser.” The lanky, blond Mountie greeted him with a broad smile. Fraser greeted him in kind, but with less enthusiasm. “Fine weather we're having, don't you think, very reminiscent of home.” Turnbull persisted, oblivious to the pensive expression on the older Mountie’s face.

“What, weather, oh yes, fine weather.” Fraser fiddled with one of his crest emblazoned buttons. “Turnbull, have you ever though about why you're alone?” The question sounded trivial the moment it passed Fraser's lips. Turnbull was doing good to be a sentient being most days.

“Alone, Sir, never, there are over a million other people in this fine city.” He answered earnestly.

“By alone I meant, alone, in the sense of having no one to greet you at home at the end of the day, no one to remind you to take out the trash.” All he got for his efforts was a confused expression from the junior Mountie. “Never mind.” Fraser pulled on his hat and coat before telling Turnbull he was going out for a walk. Just as the door opened, Dief decided to join the crowd.

“You are not invited, stay here.” Fraser sent the puckish wolf back down the hall toward his office.

Two days of snowing non-stop left the windy city with man-made snow drifts and sheets of ice along the sidewalks. Everyone bustled up and down the sidewalks swaddled in multiple layers, some black or gray, others of pink and green. Fraser pulled the collar of his wool, navy, pea coat up to shield the back of his neck. Around his neck hung the scarf Francesca had made him; white with a red maple leaf at each end. She'd been so happy he'd liked it. The Civilian Aide had been secretly knitting the scarf for months. She stuffed it in a drawer every time Fraser walked into Chicago's 27th Precinct police department bull pen. The Civilian Aide was always baking him cookies, inviting him to dinner or hanging on his sleeve like a loose thread. Francesca had tried every enticement known to woman to have him for her own. The Mountie wouldn't hurt her feelings for all the gold in Fort Knox, but he wished she would leave him alone.

Walking along aimlessly, past restaurants, stores, and shops of all kinds, the Mountie found himself outside of a Chinese restaurant. On the sidewalk sat an older man playing a bamboo flute. He sat on a plastic milk crate, his eyes closed, the cold wind blowing through his thinning gray hair as he played the strange sounding notes. Passersby tossed loose change into a coffee can at his feet. Fraser stopped to listen, closing his eyes to free his imagination from reality. He saw fog, rising in the jagged peeks of mountains the Mountie had never seen. Light gray clouds obscured the early morning sunrise, but not the weak sunlight. The flute's dulcet tones spread out before Fraser like the landscape he saw in his mind's eye. With the music he could see ancient trees unfurled, birds and monkeys taking refuge in their branches. Steep cliffs dropped hundreds of feet to twisting water ways below. Like an eagle, the lonely Mountie soared high above the world. Everything beneath him lay still, silent, peaceful. Beyond the green valleys and gray cliffs below lay a yellow and blue horizon as raked, thin clouds scattered across the distance. No cold to bother, no loneliness to haunt, only the thrill of fresh experience greeted Fraser. On wings he spun and soared with the scales of the music. It's sharp notes reminded him of the taste of mandarin oranges, rich on his palate and tangy at the tongue's tip. A sadness crept into the music, clearing all the images from Fraser's mind. He felt as hollow as the bamboo the old man's breath of life glided through so easily. The tune turned lower, darker, heavier, more mournful. Cold, crystalline tears brimmed along the fringe of Fraser's dark lashes. He let them have their course, unashamed to be moved. His father, he knew, would see only weakness in the liquid salt drops trailing down his face and landing on his wool coat. Even with his feet planted, standing at military rest, the feeling of a body colliding with his nearly knocked Fraser over. Startled back to the present time, the red clad Canadian looked around for whomever had hit him.

“I'm very sorry.” Fraser apologized, kneeling to help the lady at his feet. While he'd listened to the music the bleak daylight had faded to dark. He supposed it had been difficult to see him in the dark.

“It is I who should be sorry.” The black wool warmed figure spoke. Fraser held out his hand to help the stranger to her feet. He froze. Looking up at him were the most perfect, almond shaped, jade green eyes. Long, dark lashes fanned out to frame those eyes. Blush pink lips formed words Fraser didn't hear. He saw only jade green eyes, long, raven black hair and exquisite features set in porcelain skin. When she shook her head the Mountie realized he'd missed some cue for action on his behalf.

“I'm very sorry.” Fraser repeated, coming out of his trance. Long, straight locks of the woman's hair blew across her piercing eyes.

“Thank goodness for snow.” A smile spread across her face, accompanying a slight, Asian accent.

“Let me make it up to you, let me buy you some Oolong tea or something.” Fraser hadn't yet let go of the slim but firm hand he held.

“That would be lovely, thank you,” She paused for him to supply his name. It took the stunned Canadian a few minutes to think of it. Together, they walked into the warm restaurant.

“Constable Benton Fraser of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police.” He spat the mouth full out with it's usual speed as he held the door for her. Usually at this point he would have went on to begin to tell why he was in Chicago, but stopped, his mouth agape. No one cared why he was there just now, especially him.

“My name is Ling.” She introduced herself as she took off her overcoat and scarf at the door.

A sleepy eyed Mr. Kane, owner of _Kane's Dinner Box_ , greeted them, taking their coats at the door. He seated his only customers at a small table for two. With a tired sigh, Mr. Kane brought his only customers menus and took their drink orders. Ben ordered in conversational, Mandarin Chinese. Eyes bright in surprise, Ling met Fraser's gaze as he looked at her over his menu. Mr. Kane was no less surprised. He began chattering in the same, quick, paced language. He shook his head as Fraser answered more slowly. The restaurant owner walked back to the kitchen shaking his head.

“A Canadian who speaks Chinese in Chicago, quite a surprise.” Her soft voice sounded like sweet piano tones.

“My grandparents were librarians, as a child I could always depend on a book to keep me company. In the Yukon, where the winter days are dark nearly around the clock, and so cold your lungs burn, there simply aren't many forms of entertainment for a young boy.” Fraser's gaze seemed to see something a million miles away as he spoke. His sad smile spoke volumes.

“You must miss it very much, you speak of it so fondly.” Without thinking, Ling laid her hand on Benton's.

“I do, miss it terribly, sometimes, although there isn't much back home for me.” Fraser pulled his eyes, and his hand away from Ling's. In awkward silence they retreated into their menus for a while. Fraser thought about what home meant. He missed the simplicity, the order of nature, the ease having a single purpose gave him. No one waited for him there. What was home without people, without someone to fill the hollow space?

“Here you go, something special, for ordering in Chinese.” Mr. Kane, an older man, with dark, smiling eyes, set a feast before his guests. He backed away a few steps, bowing as he went before turning to go.

“It all smells delicious.” Ling sighed as she inhaled the scent of spicy hot noodles, honey chicken with ginger root, crab Rangoon and a handful of other delectables. Quietly they ate for a moment. Mr. Kane brought steaming cups of Oolong tea and left the pot for them.

“So, do you stand on the sidewalk with your eyes closed often?” Ling asked, her eyes smiling at him over the rim of her cup. Fraser pulled on the lobe of his ear, blushing slightly.

“No, no I don't, as a rule.” The Mountie smiled, letting it pull his face into a broad, honest countenance, more so than usual.

“You looked so peaceful, standing there listening to Kwai Chang playing, you must have been a million miles away.” Ling leaned on one fist, her face tilted to look at Fraser quizzically.

“Beautiful.” The word popped out of his mouth like bread from a toaster.

“What's beautiful?” Ling asked, wondering if the man across from her was still in possession of all his faculties.

“You, you have beautiful eyes, they're such an unusual color.” Fraser didn't feel self-conscious or clumsy telling her that. Usually it was an effort to give a compliment, especially to an attractive woman.

“Thank you, my mother was European and my father is Chinese.” Ling spoke, suddenly taking an interest in her tea. Blush crept up from the high collar of her cable knit sweater to her cheeks.

“When did she die?” Fraser leaned forward, hoping to take away her pain.

“When I was eight.” Ling cleared her throat and took a deep breath. “How did you guess?” She wondered aloud.

“You said _'was'_ , my mother _'was'_.” The Mountie explained, “but you said your father _'is'_.”

“Oh, I didn't even realize.” The young woman shrugged.

“I didn't intend to pry, if I've hit upon a sensitive spot, I'm sorry.” Fraser kicked himself for being so observant all the time.

“Here, let me read your tea leaves.” Ling waved his apology away, changing the subject. Fraser handed over the small cup, leaning close to see what she saw. Ling let the dark leaves settle, allowing them to fall as they chose.

“You have made a long journey because of honor – family honor.” That was true. Fraser had tracked down his father's killer. “Now you suffer exile because of your honor.” Ling had hit the nail on the head again. “I see that you are always alone, even when others are with you, and this brings you sadness.” She'd sensed his melancholy. “The spirit of your father follows wherever you go, his presence is a strong influence in your life still.” Fraser looked around the dining room for his father.

“That is certainly accurate.” He said, sighing in relief when the elder Mountie couldn't be seen. Ling smiled as Fraser looked around, he was the strangest man she'd ever encountered.

“I see you are very kind and loyal, especially to your friends, but you don't have very many. Someone has hurt you, now you keep people at a distance, despite your loneliness.” Fraser moved to sit beside Ling. Her soft voice, with it's barely perceptible lilt, drew him closer. She could smell the leather of his belt, the spicy, warm scent of his aftershave and a hint of Irish Spring soap. Fraser leaned on his left elbow, peering down into the brackish bottomed cup.

“How do you tell all that from those tiny leaves?” He shrugged one shoulder. It took Ling a second to focus. The gentle quality of his speaking voice and the electric tingle she felt when she looked into Fraser's spring blue eyes took her by surprise.

“It's an ancient, Chinese method handed down in my family.” A mischievous twinkle in her eye teased her Mountie companion.

“You'll have to teach me how sometime.” Fraser put his right hand on the back of Ling's chair. She could almost feel the warmth of his body.

“I'd be happy to.” The words came out without much help from the young woman's brain. With soft, gentle fingers the Asian-American traced Fraser's jaw line. He let the feel of her finger tips tickling his skin warm the cockles of his heart. It had been too long since he'd had the touch of a woman, looked into a pair of new, innocent eyes, or felt the urge to lean in and press a kiss to her full, pink rose lips.

“Do you have someone special, Constable Fraser?” Ling spoke, breaking the spell. She played with the circular, jade charm on her long necklace. Her black, ribbed turtle neck felt like a straight jacket. Ling wanted to let the stranger in red get close, but she feared the fade of their initial blush. She knew Fraser would treat her well, but what would happen when he had to chose between her and being a Mountie? Both of them would end up hurt.

“No, I don't have anyone special in my life.” The Mountie took a deep breath, sighing deeply as he repositioned himself beside Ling.

“Why?” Her one, three letter question had so many answers yet none at all. Fraser opened his mouth to reply, then closed it again.

“That's difficult to answer.” The loneliness he'd let loose of began to creep in around him like a heavy fog. Ling took Fraser's hand in both of hers. It was bigger than hers, with square, rough knuckles. His fingernails told of time playing guitar. She put her left thumb against Fraser's right thumb.

“Can you put someone first, ahead of your duty?” She laced her through his. Fraser thought hard, wondering if he could do what his father hadn't. Would his children know him as something other than a visitor?

“I want to try.” He looked into Ling's hopeful eyes. She pulled the back of his hand to her cheek, actively memorizing the sound of his voice, how he smelled, and the way his hair curled in duck tails behind his ears. Ling _wanted_ him to try. She had seen such sadness in Fraser's face as he listened to Chang play. The way he let tears gather at the brim broke her heart. Ling knew how alone and foreign Fraser felt. She grew up being not completely American and not wholly Asian. She'd lived torn between worlds, much like Fraser felt now. Chicago wasn't home, but neither was the Yukon.

“I have to go home, Fraser, my father is waiting for me.” Ling released his hand. Her jade eyes laced the luster they'd had before. The young woman scooted her chair back to get to her feet.

“I would very much like to see you again, Ling.” The Mountie sounded desperate. He couldn't go back into the cold after she'd eased the hard freeze in his soul.

“I know where to find you, Constable Benton Fraser.” She bent down and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“Ling, I don't even know your last name.” He stood up to follow her to the door. Blowing snow curtailed the entrance, obscuring Fraser's view. The streets were nearly empty outside. Even Mr. Kane had packed up to go home for the night, his coat over a bar stool.

“Did the young lady leave?” Mr. Kane inquired, his eyes hopeful.

“Yes, she left.” Ben responded, his heart lying in pieces along the bottom of his soul. “I don't even know her last name.” The Mountie spoke very low, mostly to himself.

“Here is your fortune cookie, perhaps it will change your luck.” Mr. Kane handed Fraser the mildly sweet cookie.

“How much do I owe you, Sir?” Fraser retrieved money from his hat. The old man just shook his head, refusing to accept payment. He'd watched the magical moment between Fraser and Ling. It didn't seem fair to have him pay money for it.

Fraser bid the restaurant owner a good night in Mr. Kane's native tongue and prepared to go out into the near blizzard weather beyond the warm lights and rich smells of the restaurant.

“Do not forget to read your fortune, Mr. Mountie.” Mr Kane called after him. Benton stuffed them down into his pocket and tipped his hat to the older gentleman with a sad smile. Alone again, Fraser walked back to the consulate. A fierce wind blew in off the lake and snow hammered the Canadian's face, stinging his skin. No one walked the streets in the dark. None of the usual street people tried to hustle for a night's living. Neon lights pushed back the enveloping darkness around Fraser. He could hear the high, lonesome sound of police sirens somewhere in the distance. The shrill, piercing sound reminded the Yukon native of dark nights spent listening to wolves howling. The mournful quiver of their voices sent a chill down his back. Fraser pulled his collar a little closer around his neck. Quickening his pace, the Mountie made his way against the wind.

********

 


	2. At the Consulate

The Consulate …

Only Diefenbaker waited to greet Fraser at the consulate. Turnbull had long ago retired for the night. Inspector Thatcher rarely stayed after work for any reason. The consulate lay empty except for Fraser and Dief.

“Hello, Diefenbaker.” Fraser hung up his coat and scarf to dry; sailing his Stetson to hang on a peg. The half wolf circled his bed three times, glad to have his keeper back where he felt the Mountie belonged. Fraser spread out his bed roll and prepared for bed. All was quiet and still in the old building. Dief began to snore loudly, as usual, his paws kicking as he dreamed of chasing Arctic foxes and snow shoe rabbits. Fraser leaned against the wall, his eyes closed to block out the street light glaring through the window blinds. He let himself relax and remember how the flute music had moved him. Every detail of soaring above the mountains and valleys came back to him. Feeling completely weightless and free escaped the exiled Mountie. Ling's jade eyes came back to mind, and how they almost glowed in the muted light of Mr. Kane's restaurant. Every word, every move, each nuance of the evening filled Fraser's mind. He hadn't wanted the night to end. toward morning the Mountie fell asleep.

**The Next Morning**

  
“Hey, Fraser, thought I'd see you last night.” Ray K. aka Vecchio, waved across the bull pen.

“I wasn't aware we had plans, Ray.” The Mountie sat down across from the blond detective drinking stale coffee and typing out a late report.

“Nah, Fraser, we didn't, its just we usually end up splittin' a pizza or somethin'.” Ray shrugged, his well worn Chicago Bears sweatshirt bunching at the collar.

“Oh, yes, I see.” Fraser spun his Stetson around his right hand as he sat opposite Ray. Around them the office buzzed with activity; phones ringing, suspects protesting and Lt. Welsh bellowing for Francesca. The saucy, Italian, Civilian Aide sauntered past, kicking it into full runway glide for Fraser's benefit.

“Hello, Fraser, how are you?” She paused to ask in her most seductive tone. Just as Fraser opened his mouth Lt. Welsh stuck his head out the door and bellowed louder.

“Keep your shirt on, I'll be there in a minute.” Francesca bellowed back just as loudly. She smiled at the Mountie apologetically and stalked off to appease the boss.

“So, where did you go for dinner last night, cause I'm thinkin' Chinese tonight, you up for that Frase?” Ray asked, not really paying attention.

“No thank you, Ray, I don't want Chinese tonight.” Fraser answered with a sigh, looking up at Ray.

The detective stared at him confused as he answered his ringing phone. Then he handed it to the Mountie, “It's the Ice Queen, for you.”

With the phone at his ear, Fraser leaned against the desk, pinching the bridge of his nose as he listened. “Yes, thank you, Sir, I'll do that.” The Mountie hung up the phone.

Before he could say a word Ray asked, “What'd the Ice Queen want with you, she sounded grumpier than usual.”

“I have a visitor at the consulate, Inspector Thatcher seems to think its of a personal nature and therefore a breach of protocol.” Mostly she was pissed that all of Fraser's attention wasn't focused on her.

“So, I take it this visitor is a woman.” Ray cracked a mega watt grin, teasing his somewhat socially awkward friend.

“Yes, it is a woman, Ray, I met her last night.” Fraser stood up and gathered his navy overcoat to leave. Ray scrambled to catch up, his leather jacket on one arm.

“Thatcher's all crazy because this woman is young and attractive?”

No matter how he tried, Fraser couldn't outrun Ling's amazing eyes. He thought of them as he walked out of the bull pen.

“Yes, Ray, Ling is quite attractive, Inspector Thatcher may well feel ….” He paused, smoothing and eyebrow with his thumb nail and searching for the right word. “Well, Inspector Thatcher could feel threatened by her, for lack of a better term.” The Mountie took off toward the consulate at a double time pace.

“Fraser, the car's this way.” Ray shouted. He just kept walking. The Chicago detective pulled the GTO along side Fraser a few minutes later.

“Get in, Fraser, you got a girl and this I gotta see.” The door swung open and the Mountie slid in, Dief in tow.

**At the Canadian Consulate**

Turnbull hovered around the lovely visitor. He'd laid out English breakfast tea, blueberry scones and sugar cookies. Ling sat in the front sitting room, a tea cup in her delicate hands, listening to Turnbull explain the uniquely Canadian sport of Curling. Fraser walked quietly up to the door frame and stood for a moment letting the scene play. Afternoon light filtered in through the gauzy curtains pulled to the side. Cream colored wall paper created a slight candle light effect for the twelve foot, vaulted ceiling room. Ling's melodious laugh was barely stifled as she listened and watched Turnbull demonstrate his favorite sport. Waist length locks of raven black hair fell around her shoulders, contrasting with the dark pink turtleneck Ling wore.

“Hey, Fraser, your wolf is marking my tires again.” Ray came in behind the Mountie. Both Turnbull and Ling turned to look at Fraser. No one spoke immediately.

“Oh, hello, Constable Fraser, I was just telling Miss Zhou about Curling while she waited for you.” The lanky, blond Mountie smiled, satisfaction filling his chest to bursting.

“Thank you kindly, Turnbull.” Fraser dismissed the younger officer. The dark haired Canadian hung his coat on the coat tree and parked his hat, all the while watching Ling. Her eyes never left him either.

“I'm sorry to have kept you waiting.” Fraser sat down in an arm chair opposite the beautiful, Asian-American woman.

“Oh, it was alright, your colleague was very entertaining.” Ling's eyes nearly disappeared when she smiled, remembering Turnbull's antics. Ray coughed down a laugh, his blue eyes rolling. He received a warning glare for his efforts.

“Ling, this is Detective Ray Vecchio.” Fraser introduced the two. Everyone sat silently for a long, awkward moment. Ray looked from Fraser to Ling while Ling looked from one man to the other.

“I, uh, the meter, I need to put money in the parking meter.” Ray hitched a thumb toward the GTO sitting outside. With a quick smile the blond detective excused himself.

“I'm rather surprised to see you, Ling.” Fraser began, fiddling with a cup of tea from the pot Turnbull had left on the coffee table. He wondered if she was there to see him or if she needed something from him. The lovely, Euro-Asian woman wiped her mouth before she hesitantly answered.

“My father runs a small curio shop on State Street, last night while I was at the restaurant with you a package was delivered, inside the padded envelope were pictures of my mother.” She pulled the white, padded envelope from her coat pocket and handed it to Fraser. Carefully, the Mountie slid the 4X6 inch images onto his hanky and looked at their content.

“Mother was working as a translator in Hong Kong when she met my father. They were married six months later and I was born nine months after that. Just after my eighth birthday my mother was killed in an automobile accident on her way home, the automobile exploded. Father and I moved to America after all of my mother's affairs were settled.” Fraser saw the resemblance between Ling and the woman pictured holding yesterday's _Chicago Sun-Times_ newspaper.

“Was there any reason to believe your mother's death wasn't genuine at the time, Ling?” The Mountie tried to figure out where Ling's mother was being held by any clues in the background or the male hand holding a gun at her head.

“I don't know, Fraser, my father has always refused to talk about my mother's life, I thought it was because it grieved him so, her death.” Ling had been crying earlier but her tears held off as she talked. Fraser took her hand in his, squeezing her palm gently.

“Was there a ransom note or a warning with the photographs?” Fraser looked steadily into those jade green eyes with the power to haunt a man.

“Yes, it's written on the back of the photographs.” Quickly, Fraser turned the glossies over. On a note pad he wrote the message down.

GIVE US THE KENDRICK FILES OR SHE DIES. 801 ALDERSON St. 10 PM WEDNESDAY COME ALONE, NO COPS

“My father refuses to believe the woman is Mother, he will not go to the police or try to find these Kendrick files the message speaks of.” Ling wrung her hands, anger and frustration wooling on her nerves.

“What leads you to believe this woman is your mother, Ling, it's been what, twenty years and she's made no effort to contact either you or your father?” The Mountie pointed out logically. A vehement flare sparked in the young woman's eyes.

“My father made this and a set of earrings especially for Mother.” She held up the jade charm around her neck. “There isn't another set like it in all the world.” Ling pointed to a matching pair of earrings in one of the photographs.

“May I see your pendant, please?” Fraser pulled his spy glass from one of his many pockets and used it as a magnifying glass to examine the jade charm.

“Father made the necklace and earring set himself, as a present for their fifth anniversary. Mother gave it to me a few weeks before the accident. Father's trademark is there.” She pointed to a diamond shape incorporated into the gold, filigree design.

“There appears to be a match in the design. This envelope and photographs should be taken to the proper, Chicago authorities immediately.” Fraser slid the pictures back into the envelope, holding it tentatively with his clean, white handkerchief.

“My father will not cooperate, Fraser, are you certain the authorities will do anything to help?” Ling asked, not wholly convinced.

“Then we will have to persuade them to help you, Ling.” Fraser answered confidently, as if it had never occurred to him that the Chicago PD wouldn't throw open the doors for them. Ling simply shook her head and allowed him to help her on with her coat.

“Who is this lovely fellow?” Ling asked when she saw Dief sitting beside the GTO.

“My wolf, Diefenbaker.” Fraser watched as Ling ran her fingers through the wolf's plush, white and caramel fur.

“My, isn't he handsome.” The wolf stood as straight and proud as any show dog when she said that.

“A glutton and now a prima donna.” The Mountie thought to himself as he slid in last.

“What's the deal, Fras?” Ray asked sitting behind the wheel.

“To see Lt. Welsh, please, we have a kidnapping to solve.” Fraser thanked him kindly, as always and with Ling's help, filled in the Chicago detective.

*********

 


	3. At the Precinct

_**Lt. Welsh's Office ...** _

Each of the handful of photographs were put into evidence bags after being copied on both sides. Fraser had introduced Ling Zhou and given the Lieutenant a summary of the case. Now they waited for Welsh to decide if there was anything the Chicago PD could do.

“Without Mr. Zhou's cooperation this is going to be a pickle of a case, Constable, but I'm willing to proceed. Most likely we'll end up turning it over to the Feds though.” That was always a cheery thought, but the longtime Chicago cop had seen the Mountie solve cases with less.

“So, I'll get on the horn with the, uh, the Hong Kong officials while Frase and Miss Zhou go talk to the father.” Ray volunteered.

“Ray Vecchio, wait right there, this has to be handled delicately and it has to go through the proper channels.” The blond detective literally stopped in his tracks. He was kinda glad Welsh was going to have to talk to the Chinese, it was hard enough to understand Fraser and he was only a Canadian. Ray turned and shrugged.

“Then what am I here for, Sir?” He shuffled back to the desk where Welsh sat with the phone between his ear and shoulder. The Lieutenant hated being on hold, but it was better than Ray causing an international incident.

“You, see if you can get your sorry sister to do background checks on the Zhous, their immigration records, all of it and find out what the Kendrick Files are, sit on SID while you're at it, I want fingerprint results.” Welsh growled, feeling as if he had to do it all himself.

“Hey! Don't lay Francesca off on me, I'm adopted, remember.” Ray reminded the commanding officer. Welsh pointed to the door and ordered the detective out with a mean glare.

********

Fraser hailed a taxi quickly, even though it was nearing lunch hour. Traffic moved off in all directions; in vehicles, on foot and even overhead on the raised railway. Most people just wanted to get inside where it was warm and dry.

“Hey, no dogs, Mister.” the cabbie balked when Dief jumped in the car.

“Sir, Diefenbaker is a wolf.” Fraser explained into the passenger window of the Gemini taxi cab.

“No deal, no pets, only service animals allowed in my hack.” The corpulent, Italian driver still refused.

“Diefenbaker has been of the utmost service to myself as well as the Royal Canadian Mounted Police, saving not only my life but the lives of countless others, selflessly answering each plea for help.” The Mountie argued Dief's case.

“Ten bucks extra, in US dollars, and the fur ball rides.” The cabbie relented. Fraser smiled and pulled a ten out of his broad brimmed Stetson and handed it over. With a jerk the taxi took off, barely letting Fraser get his legs inside.

“You do know he was talking about seeing eye dogs, right?” Ling asked just above a whisper. Fraser smoothed an eyebrow with his thumb and shrugged.

“Yes, but I chose to interpret his use of the term _'service animals'_ more broadly.” The Euro-Asian woman laughed, covering her mouth with her hand. Fraser didn't know why she was laughing but he smiled too, glad to be with her.

*********

“Francesca, Lt. Welsh wants background and the whole nine yards on Ling Zhou and her father, Li Zhou.” Ray stood beside the Civilian Aide's desk as she buffed her left hand's glossy, lilac coated fingernails.

“Yeah, yeah, I'll get on it.” she rolled her eyes and sighed.

“Today, Francesca, Fraser and me, we got a deadline on this here case.” At the mention of Fraser her ears perked up just like Dief when he smelled Krispy Kreme.

“What is Fraser into today?” The bold, Italian woman dropped her nail buffer in a desk drawer, simultaneously firing up the police database.

“He's helping this Asian chick he met last night find her abducted mother who's supposed to have been dead for like the last twenty years or somethin', it's kinda crazy.” Ray squinted to read the computer screen over Frannie's shoulder.

“Is she pretty?” Francesca Vecchio's brown eyes turned green.

“Huh? Pretty, oh yea, on a scale of one to ten, she's a 9.95. she's got that whole exotic, Chinese thing goin' for her.” Ray answered, still trying to read over Francesca's shoulder. All he could make out was a picture. Steam nearly blew out of the smitten, Civilian Aides' ears.

“Did Fraser seem interested in this woman?” Frannie looked up at Ray, her lips pursed in annoyance.

“Oh yeah, definitely interested, you should see how he looks at her, like she's some kind of goddess 'er somethin', I've never seen Fraser look at a girl like that.” Ray fished out a pair of wire rimmed glasses and set them on his straight nose.

“I've seen Fraser like that before, and he got shot in the back for it, this can't be good.” Francesca hammered away on the police database, spoiling to find some dirt on her rival for Fraser's affections.

*********

Fraser held the door open to _Zhou's Curio Shop_ as Ling walked in. Gold lettering spelled out their family name in a bold font. The shop smelled of lemon Pledge and fresh cut wood.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Zhou.” The Mountie doffed his hat and put on his friendliest smile.

“Father, this is Constable Fraser, I told you about him last night, he's here to help us with Mother's ransom.” Ling began pulling layers off. The shop was quite warm compared to the frigid winds outside.

“I told you, don't bring police into this, that woman not your mother.” Mr. Zhou declared, his heavy accent making it difficult to understand. He stomped around the short counter, his head coming just to the top of Fraser's shoulder.

“Mr. Zhou, I am here as a private citizen, I have no formal authorization from the Chicago Police Department.” Mr. Zhou looked from Fraser to Ling.

“Why you bring funny policeman? Where he come from?” Obsidian black eyes looked up at the Mountie framed by folds of skin and raised eyebrows. Mr. Zhou's jowls jiggled when he moved quickly.

“I first came to Chicago searching for the men responsible for my father's murder, and for reasons that I need not go into at this juncture, I've been obliged to stay, on detachment with the Canadian Consulate.” Fraser received the same blank, glazed over reaction he always ended up with.

“You very strange man, Mr. Policeman, what I mean, why you interested in ransom case of dead woman?” Mr. Zhou rephrased his original question. Fraser nodded, his hands clasped behind his back. He looked at his boots a moment before answering.

“From the evidence Ling, Miss Zhou, has shown me, I believe the woman in the photographs is your wife, Mrs. Zhou.” Fraser produced an enhanced blow up of the earrings in the picture from the inside pocket of his red, surge uniform. “Ling tells me you hand crafted these three pieces yourself, she has told me you incorporated a trademark into the design.” The old man studied the photocopy Fraser laid on the shop counter. Ling looked hopeful that her father would cooperate. He knew so much more than he'd ever told his daughter.

“Nothing to be done for Mary.” The older, Asian gentleman traced his arthritic, index finger around the image of the frightened brunette.

“Mr. Zhou, something can be done for your wife, but you must tell the police what you know.” The Mountie spoke very matter-of-factly, his steady gaze making the stubborn old man's resolve begin to slip.

“So many years, Mr. Policeman, I am old man, there is Ling to worry for and my store.” Mr. Zhou shuffled his feet on the hard wood floor and looked off into the distance at the city beyond.

“I promise I won't let anything happen to Ling, Mr. Zhou.” The promise came from a place deeper than duty or responsibility. Ling could hear it in the warm, affectionate way he said her name. She moved closer to the tall, red figure, a smile in her eyes.

“My Ling a good judge of people, she say you good person, you _real_ good person.” Mr. Zhou puffed out his cheeks and shrugged in resignation. He gathered his hat, scarf and coat.

“Thank you, Father.” Ling breathed a sigh of relief. Together they took a taxi to Chicago PD.

*********

People all over the police station shivered as they drank hot coffee and pulled their collars a little closer around their necks. The cold crept like a ghost around the old building. Everyone expected more snow at any time.

“Francesca, what have you dug up on the Zhou family so far?” Lt. Welsh asked, his voice booming from halfway across the bull pen.

“Not much, Lieutenant, everything I find says they're stuffy citizens.” The Civilian Aide balled her hands into fists. She'd so wanted to find a skeleton in Ling Zhou's closet.

“You mean _'solid citizen'_ , Francesca.” Ray corrected. His prescription eye glasses hung from his sweatshirt collar as he joined the conversation, a file in hand.

“Do you have anything, Detective?” Welsh turned his attention to Ray.

“Nah, I got nothin', just a lot of carefully filled out tax papers and a lot of other useless junk.” He let the file hit Francesca's already swamped desk.

“Ray, Lt. Welsh,” All heads turned when Fraser waved and called. “Let me introduce Mr. Zhou.” The polite, Canadian Mountie introduced the Asian gentleman to Lt. Welsh, Ray and Frannie, when she cleared her throat for attention. “Also, I'd like to introduce Ling Zhou.” Ling stepped out from behind Fraser. She was the center of attention, which made her cheeks fill with a rosy blush. Francesca stepped up to her, an arched eyebrow above a critical, brown eye. The Civilian Aide made a complete circle around the young woman before walking away muttering.

“Have police information about woman in photographs delivered to my shop?” Mr. Zhou asked, to no one in particular.

“We're still waiting on our evidence to go through the forensics lab.” Lt. Welsh answered, shooting his team an annoyed glare. Ray slunk off to his desk to put in a call to SID. Frannie buried her nose in a file on her desk. Even Dief found a place to be out of sight.

“We do have some questions for you, Mr. Zhou, if you'll follow me.” Welsh escorted the two Asians and Fraser to his office.

“Do you know anything about the Kendrick Files, Mr. Zhou?” Welsh began bluntly after he sat down.

“Nothing, I know nothing about Kendrick Files.” Mr. Zhou shook his head emphatically.

“Do you know what your wife was working on before her death?” The lieutenant leaned forward on his desk.

“Mary was translator for Hong Kong Investments, she spend all day talking numbers, company matters, nothing dangerous.” Mr. Zhou insisted. Fraser and Lt. Welsh exchanged meaningful glances. Ling said nothing if she noticed.

“Had Mrs. Zhou had any trouble with a co-worker or a supervisor perhaps?” Fraser queried politely, the tip of his tongue toying with an eye tooth.

“Mary did not like boss, Tony Ping, said he spoke inappropriate to her when no Chinese around.” The old man's jowls shook violently as he spoke, his dark eyes blazing.

“Was it of a sexual nature or did this man threaten Mrs. Zhou through other means?” Fraser persisted.

“Mary never say, she refuse to talk about Ping.” Mr. Zhou gestured broadly with his short, nimble hands.

“Perhaps your wife had a confidant, a friend she told about Ping?” Welsh sat back and let Fraser ask the questions, watching the Mountie at work.

“Few friends in Hong Kong for Mary, kept to herself-alone.” A sadness filled Mr. Zhou. Mary's solitary ways seemed to be something the old man hadn't been able to change.

“Father, what about Nana Lu, she and Mother talked over tea for hours when she cared for me.” Ling suggested. Her father agreed, his face brightening.

“Do you know how to get hold of her?” Welsh pulled out an ink pen, ready to take down an address or phone number.

“We receive Christmas card every year, never fail.” Mr. Zhou shrugged.

“I'll get the address for you at home, Lt. Welsh.” Ling volunteered.

“Have you received any other suspicious mail or phone calls, Mr. Zhou?” Fraser persisted. The old man shook his head, his jowls swaying. From the increased breathing and the way Zhou's gaze drifted to the left, Fraser knew he was lying.

“Well, if we have any more questions, we'll call.” The lieutenant stood up, dismissing the Zhous. “If you remember anything, please, don't hesitate to let us know.” The rugged cop opened the door for his guests. With a secretive nod he detained the Mountie for a moment.

“Stick with the old man, find out what he's hiding, whatever he wouldn't say in front of his daughter.” Fraser just nodded, spinning his hat on one finger as he left.

*********

 


	4. At the Zhou House

Mary Zhou watched a pigeon land on the balcony railing outside the hotel room window. Lead gray skies created a dull canvas for the _'Windy City'_. Street lights began to flicker on; their dull, yellow glow doing little to dispel the gloom. It had been four days since she'd been snatched from a Kansas City street and thrown into a beat up, Chevy van by four, hooded men. In the twenty years since Mary had left the Kendrick Files behind she had let her guard down. Now here Mary Zhou sat in a cheap, rundown hotel on Chicago's skid row. Handcuffs cut into the missing woman's wrist. One, chubby thug sat beside the bed where she sat attached to the wall mounted head board. _The Godfather_ played on TV, enthralling the dim witted guard. Looking beyond the sliding glass door to the '70's orange upholstery and baby puke yellow wallpaper, Mary racked her brain to find something to pick the cuff's lock with. She didn't know how to pick a lock, but figured it was worth a try. Quietly, she slipped the the bed side table drawer open with her toes. Inside lay a _Cash Upfront_ ink pen. The payday loan company's ink pens were as common as dirt in the poorer end of town. A light bulb went off over Mary's head. Looking before she did, Mrs. Zhou slipped her pedicured toes around the plastic barrel and brought it up to her hands. She need not have worried, the thug guarding her was in a world all his own, wrapped up in an old movie.

After closing the drawer, Mary unscrewed the the ink pen and jabbed the thin, plastic tube in the key hole, producing absolutely _No Results_. Mary worked for over an hour before losing heart. Thankfully, it was a movie marathon, so her captor took no notice of her attempt to escape. Mrs. Zhou prayed to Saint Jude for help and trusted that her daughter would come through for her.

********

Snow flakes fell lazily as Ling prepared left over soup for lunch. The small kitchen, tucked away above the curio shop, smelled of strange and tangy spices mixed with baking bread. Ling dared not look at Benton, who sat at the yellow, Formica table. He seemed to take up most of the space in the kitchen, with his broad shoulders and and well polished boots. His fair eyes followed her every movement as she pulled bowls down from the cabinet and gathered flat ware for three people. The young lady liked the feeling of being watched by him. She enjoyed being someone's one-in-a-million for a change.

“Lt. Welsh wants me to stick close to your father to gather any information he may not have wished to divulge while you were present, do you believe your father knows more than he told us, Ling?” Fraser sat up straight in the sturdy, kitchen chair. His eyes studied her as Ling turned to face the Mountie.

“This is what I meant last night when I asked you if you could put someone else ahead of duty. Is it duty to pry my father and me apart,” Tears welled up in her almond shaped eyes. “or do you care for me?” Those tears crept down her cheeks as she looked into Fraser's strong featured face.

“I care, Ling, I'm here to help.” The Mountie held her gaze for a moment.

“Do you need help, my daughter?” Mr. Zhou's voice broke the long, cold silence in the kitchen.

“I'm fine, Father, lunch is ready.” She gathered the dishes and flat ware before going into the dining room.

“Ah, Constable, dog and I have conversation, he very smart, young dog.” Mr. Zhou set a serving of soup on the floor for Dief, who sat beside the old gentleman.

“Wolves are keenly intelligent animals.” Fraser pulled out Ling's seat for her, only to get a cold glance.

“Wolf descendants become man's best friend, this one very smart.” Diefenbaker looked up haughtily at Fraser. The Mountie wondered how much longer he'd have to pay for letting the wolf save his life.

The meal settled into silence. Ling spoke to her father or Fraser spoke to the old man, but the young people didn't exchange a single word while they ate. Mr. Zhou saw the distance between them and wondered but kept it to himself. He had never interfered in his his daughter's life. Ling had been mature and responsible. She had a few, good friends and went out with sensible, young professionals. None of the young men had put the spark in her eye Zhou had seen the night before.

“Do you want anything else, Father?” Ling asked, stacking the dishes, preparing to leave the small dining room. He waved her away. Fraser stood up to accompany her. Ling shook her head, pushing through the swinging door. With a hurt smile, Ben stood wondering what to do next.

“Follow me into the den.” Mr. Zhou beckoned the younger man. Two, faded, leather armchairs and a couch took up the most of the den Zhou led him into. Green, glass lamps sat on matching end tables; one between the armchairs and another beside the couch. A dark red and black wallpaper met dark wood paneling halfway down.

“You meet Ling last night, she run into backside.” The older gentleman settled into a particularly well worn chair and pulled a bag of orange slices from beneath the cushion.

“Yes, Sir, I was listening to a flute player, I must have bumped Miss Zhou somehow.” Fraser sat on the couch across from the aging Asian man, smoothing an eyebrow as he recalled the incident.

“Ling come home last night, bright stars in eyes, haven't seen little girl like that, many years.” He raised a gnarled finger in the air as he chewed on a sugar coated, orange slice. “Now, Ling sad again, scared.” Mr. Zhou shook his head. Fraser knew that must be his fault. In a matter of hours he had had his life turned upside down.

“Well, aren't you going to ask him about those files, Son?” A familiar voice joined in, or butted in more like. Fraser shook his head. Robert Fraser had a knack for disrupting his son's plans; distracting him at almost every turn.

“When Lt. Welsh inquired about the Kendrick Files earlier, you seemed hesitant to tell all of what you know, Mr. Zhou.” The Mountie leaned forward, elbows on his knees as he studied the old man. Mr. Zhou studied Benton for a moment.

“Me and Mary very happy, I owned shop, she interpret for big company. We made good living, have beautiful daughter, nice home, but Mary kept strange work hours, sometimes not get home until midnight. We argue, I accuse sweet Mary of affair.” Shame and guilt washed over the old man. He stared at a large, family photo on the wall behind Fraser.

“Ask him about the files, Son!” Bob Fraser spoke emphatically.

“No.” Benton answered, much to Mr. Zhou's confusion.

“I thought your grandparents raised you to take initiative.” Bob Fraser threw his hands up in frustration.

“What you mean, 'No', Constable?” Fraser felt like sinking into the Oriental rug at his feet.

“I meant to say, No, I'm sure your wife wasn't having an affair, Sir.” The Mountie pulled at the tail of his uniform's red, serge coat.

“I know now. Few days before explosion, we fight, I over hear Mary on phone, she call someone Kendrick, plan meeting for next day.” The old man shook his head sadly. He hadn't wanted Ling to know about the argument or the awful things he'd said to Mary. “My last words to Mary, very shameful, I regret them very much.” Mr. Zhou got up and stood by the window overlooking the street.

“With any luck, we will be able to get phone records for your home in Hong Kong, Sir, perhaps your wife is alright.” Fraser tried to make amends. It was too little too late.

Fraser said good-bye to a sad Mr. Zhou and a cold Ling. Uniformed beat cops were stationed along the street. The Mountie nodded to them as he walked back toward the consulate.

*********

 


	5. Silvestri

As true Chicagoans, Huey and Louie ate pizza and drank coffee as they sat outside 801 Alderson Street. Both of them groused as they froze their asses off on one of Ray and Fraser's cases.

“I know Huey, I know, but what can we do about it, I hate playing second banana to them too.” Louie shrugged, pulling off an anchovy and tossing it back in the pizza box.

“We've been out here for four hours and ain't seen squat.” Huey grumbled. Headlights blinded the detectives as a Lincoln sedan rounded the corner. Three men in long, heavy, trench coats unfolded themselves from inside the American luxury sedan. All were big enough to be their own zip codes. Huey began snapping pictures with one hand and finishing off his pizza with the other.

“They look like nasty customers.” Louie loosened the snap over his service revolver. In his heart of hearts, he didn't actually want to tangle with any of them. That was more the kind of job Constable Fraser was good at. Even the new Ray was a slugger.

“Yeah, they are.” Huey took pictures of the town car's license plates.

“I'll call Ray and tell him we have activity, then they can run the plates.” Louie volunteered, picking up the radio's handset. The two, major crimes detectives watched the three thugs, one with a bent, wide nose strode comfortably forward while the two goons in the back kept lookout up and down the streets. 801 Alderson sat on a rundown chunk of the backside of Chicago. The two story, white house looked empty from the outside, sitting on a corner lot. Without more than a single flashlight, the thugs made it downstairs, into the basement.

“He said to sit on 'em.” Louie sighed as he replaced the handset. Sitting uncomfortably in a car was better than broken knee caps. The average looking, white detective called dispatch for info on the car.

“A12-IOC, is a 1992, black Lincoln, registered to John Silvestri.” The bored dispatcher waded through the address for Silvestri.

“Next time, I order pizza, Huey, fish do not belong on pizza.” Louie declared, which began a bickering session; anchovies versus pineapples.

********

Ray studied the Zhou's phone records, his nose inches away from the paper. He'd spent all day tied to a chair, reading paperwork.

“Perhaps if you wore your eyeglasses, Ray,” Fraser's unexpected voice made the undercover detective jump, nearly out of his skin.

“Geez, there Fraser, don't do that.” Ray sat back in his roller chair.

“I'm sorry, Ray, I will try to make more noise in the future.” The northern woodsman sat down opposite his unofficial partner.

“I've been tied to this desk all day, all I got is a bunch of phone calls between Mary Zhou and one Anthony Ping, and three thugs driving a car registered to John Silvestri at the drop off site.” Ray rubbed his face, tired and ready for a break. “I don't know who John Silvestri is, beyond an importer of foreign goods, on the up and up according to the FBI, and I'm still waiting on more info on the company Mary Zhou worked for.” The near sighted detective rubbed his baby blues as he gave Fraser the update. He took one look at Ben and knew something was wrong. The Canadian studied his hat brim, letting Ray's voice roll over him. Francesca walked toward the friends, her best runway strut on.

“So, someone owes me dinner, 'cause I found out what Kendrick stands for.” The spunky, Civilian Aide smiled smugly.

“And?” Fraser and Ray spoke in unison.

“Kendrick was a manufacturer who has had big money deals with Ping's company in Hong Kong and with Silvestri's company here in Chicago.” She was more proud of herself than she should have been. It wasn't a 2+2 question, more of an algebra equation.

“I understand that Silvestri is important because of his import/export business and connections, but how does he tie in with a faked murder and kidnapping?” Ray pondered aloud.

“Mrs. Zhou must know something, or they think she knows something of value.” Fraser pulled himself out of the reverie he'd been standing hip deep in. Each of the team drifted off to whatever they'd been doing before. The Mountie sat down across from Ray, still out of sorts.

“Why so glum, buddy?” The replacement detective asked, laying the phone records he'd been studying aside.

“It's nothing, Ray, irrelevant.” Fraser waved it off, sitting up straighter, a dull smile across his pale features.

“Bullshit, I can see it all over your face.” Ray disagreed. He hadn't known the Canadian long, but he didn't have to in order to know the difference between a happy Fraser and a sad one.

“I don't wish to burden you, Ray, I'll sort everything out tomorrow.” Fraser sighed, uncharacteristically.

“I got broad shoulders and big ears, lay it out for me, Fraser.” Ray stuffed the phone records into a file folder then sat forward to give the quiet Canadian his full attention. Fraser leaned back, one arm across his chest, the other kneading his forehead. With a deep breath, he began to speak. He didn't get to speak the first word.

“Constable Fraser, I have the telephone number and address for Nana Lu.” Ling walked up, a sheet of notebook paper in hand. The change in the Mountie was obvious. He sat up as straight as a pine tree with a Christmas star in his fair eyes.

“Ling,” The Mountie hesitated, searching for her sir name. “Miss Zhou, thank you kindly.” Fraser stood, snapping to like a strawberry Pop Tart barreling through a toaster slot.

“Have you found out what the Kendrick Files are yet?” Ling asked, addressing neither Ray nor Fraser.

“Nah, we're still finding pieces of the puzzle, all we know so far is that Kendrick was an account with Ping Investments and Silvestri Import/Export.” The new Ray volunteered.

“If there is any way I can help, Det. Vecchio, I will, gladly.” Ling offered. Quickly she turned and left, leaving a wake of cold air behind her.

“What changed her tune?” Ray commented, feeling the cold draft too.

“That would be me, Ray.” The Mountie watched longingly after Ling.

“Sucks to be you, eh?” Ray too watched her disappear out of the squad room.

“Yes, it does sometimes.” Fraser replied dryly.

*******

 


	6. Kiss

Ling sat at the small desk in her bedroom staring at a framed picture of her mother. Her legs were folded beneath her in the office chair. The quiet, young woman had been thinking about what she'd said to Fraser at lunch. It had been too harsh. Ling hadn't meant to hurt the Mountie. She'd seen the concern in his eyes as he'd sat across the table from her. Fraser was just the kind of man she'd spent years longing to meet. He was easy to talk to, smart, funny and genuine. Ling wanted to explore his world. Tears slid down her cheeks heedless of where they landed.

Li Zhou stopped outside his daughter's room, peering in from the door way. The room hadn't changed much over the years. She still slept beneath the jade green comforter he'd chosen for her as a birthday gift. A red, Chinese lantern hung over the blond desk she'd bought second hand in middle school. Each item spoke of her interests and tastes. Ling rubbed her thumb over her mother's pendant as she stared out the window.

“Your mother, she sit same as you do now, legs folded under bottom, thinking, head in clouds.” He leaned against the door frame. Ling wiped her tears away as her father shuffled into the small room.

“Did you need something, Father?” She pasted a pleasant expression on her angular face.

“No,” He answered, sitting down on the queen size bed beside his only daughter. “Do you need handkerchief?” Mr. Zhou pulled a clean, white hanky from his hip pocket and handed it to Ling. He hated seeing his baby girl crying, knowing he couldn't fix it. “Why you crying, you have fight with strange policeman?” He wondered how many other times Ling had cried, never bothering him with her fears and troubles.

“No, Father, we didn't fight, I pushed Fraser away when I had no reason to. With everything going on I guess I over reacted when he asked me if you knew more than you told the police.” The young woman shrugged, confused about what she felt. Mr. Zhou took his daughter's hand, squeezing her fingers gently. He knew her fear; her confusion.

“If young man care, he understand.” Ling pulled free, instead she hugged her father. She hoped he was right.

********

Mary Zhou felt the handcuff lock release after an hour of fiddling with it. After unlocking it, she didn't know how many men guarded her room, when they'd change shifts or anything. Her heart thudded in her chest as her mind raced. Quietly, Mary eased to her feet. Thankfully, they hadn't taken her shoes when they grabbed her and flung her into a van.

Tip-toeing barefoot down the hallway of the cheap motel, Mary couldn't believe how easily she'd escaped from Ping's men. Her heart skipped a beat when she heard a male voice coming toward her from the other end of the thinly carpeted corridor. She stopped dead still, a million things running through her mind; where to run to, had she heard that voice before, and maybe it wasn't one of Ping's men after all.

“I know, Miguel, but the Bulls are unbeatable, make the bet.” Two men in coveralls turned the corner, toolboxes in hand. They only paid enough attention to Mary so they wouldn't bump into her in the hallway. She felt giddy with relief as they kept walking. A logical voice in the escapee's brain told her she had to flee quickly. A plan formulated in her mind as she took the stairs out the back of the motel and as quickly as she could without arousing suspicion, crossed the back parking lot. Walking what seemed like half a day, Mary found a second hand clothing store. She figured Ping would have her husband's shop under surveillance. A disguise would be necessary. Glad to have it, Mary fished out the twenty dollar bill she kept in her bra for a pair of sturdy, leather shoes, jeans, a cable knit sweater heavy socks, a toboggan and a flannel lined, denim jacket. With the five dollars left over she bought a large coffee and a sandwich to keep her strength up. She had a long way to walk into downtown Chicago.

*********

Snow continued to drift aimlessly toward the ground below as Fraser walked slowly down the street toward the consulate. Dief zig-zagged along, smelling everything as he trotted happily ahead of his human companion. Ling's sudden coldness preoccupied the experienced officer. She'd seemed shy, yes, but there had been a genuine connection between them at the restaurant, only twenty-four hours earlier. Walking steadily on, lost in thought, the Mountie nearly missed seeing Ling sitting on the top step of the consulate. Between her long, dark hair and dark coat Ling's most noticeable feature was her face.

“Ling, I hadn't expected to see you here after …” Fraser paused, unsure of how to proceed, “ah, after lunch this afternoon.” The Mountie studied the pavement at his feet.

“Lunch, that is what I came to speak with you about.” She patted the top step beside her. Slowly, the Mountie sat down beside her. “I am sorry, I should not have spoken to you as I did, I know you're doing what's necessary to help, to find my mother and the kidnappers.” Ling spoke as she watched people passing by along the sidewalk. Fraser's silence made her turn to look at him. With an understanding smile, the gentle Mountie took her ungloved fingers in his hands.

“It's alright, Ling, all is forgotten.” Their eyes locked, her jade green ones and his fair ones. Each searched the other silently. Their breath plumed out between them, disappearing into the atmosphere. Cars and people passed by but neither of them heard a thing. A faint blush crept up the shy young woman's face as she leaned toward Benton. Ling's heart skipped a beat as she felt Fraser's lips connect with hers. His hand squeezed around her fingers as she closed her eyes. Just like in her daydreams, he laid his left hand along her cheek, deepening the kiss and making Ling giddy. A million sensations flooded her brain, his firm, lower lip against hers, the way he smelled of leather and Irish Spring soap, not to mention his rough finger tips tickling her ear. Ling had never been kissed so well or so intimately. She didn't feel the cold or the loneliness anymore. It was the first time in a long while that the young woman had felt anything stir inside.

A sharp bark brought Fraser back to reality. Dief stood on the bottom step of the consulate looking rather put out. The Mountie reluctantly pulled away from Ling. He gave the wolf a death glare for his efforts. Ling pushed a strand of hair behind her ears and studied cement at her feet.

“I guess I need to see if Father is alright, I've been gone quite a while.” The shy, Asian woman met Fraser's gaze again, this time resisting the urge to kiss him. Fraser jumped to his feet as she stood to leave.

“Oh dear.” She heard him mutter self consciously. “Ling, uh, Miss Zhou, you can reach me here or at the precinct if you need anything,” Fraser fiddled with a pocket flap as he called after her, “or if you don't.” He made her laugh. Ling hid her smile behind her hands, but nothing could take the smile from her jade green eyes.

“I will be in my father's shop if you need anything, Benton, I mean, Constable Fraser,” Ling giggled, “or if you don't.” She waved as she walked back toward her family's business.

“I see you've been sniffing the air again, Son, I'm glad to see it.” Bob Fraser commented from beside his son.

“Yes, Dad, I have.” Benton didn't turn to see his father. He wanted to watch Ling until she disappeared from sight. Nothing could ruin the good feeling glowing within the misplaced Mountie, not even his father.

“She's exquisite, Son, as lovely a girl as I've ever seen.” Bob Fraser complimented wistfully.

“I think so too.” With a sigh, Fraser turned to go inside. He felt warmth like he hadn't felt in several years.

_**Inside the consulate …** _

“Constable Fraser, good afternoon.” Turnbull greeted his superior officer as Fraser strolled through the foyer, playfully twirling his Stetson on one finger.

“Good day, Turnbull, lovely spring day isn't it.” Fraser sighed, his eyes bright. Confused, the junior officer walked to the front door and peered out at the snow laden sidewalk and gunmetal gray skies overhead. People walked along the sidewalk bundled so that only their eyes were visible.

“If you say so, Sir.” The younger officer agreed.

********

 


	7. Mary, Mary, Quite Contrary

Mary Zhou walked into the police station and found her way to the sergeant at the front desk. Tired and cold, she leaned against the counter for a moment, soaking in the heat from an overhead vent.

“How can I help you, Ma'am?” the gruff officer asked, his dull eyes fixed on the bundled figure before him.

“I'd like to report a kidnapping, officer.” Mary began. The officer's expression didn't change in the least. His sausage like fist moved an ink pen across a pad mechanically.

“Who was kidnapped, Ma'am?”

“I was, officer.” The black uniformed sergeant looked at her, unaffected, his dull, blue eyes merely blinking a few times.

“Who abducted you, Ma'am?” Mary heard the doubt in his tone of voice.

“Anthony Ping.” Mary's voice took on a loud, aggravated tone.

“How did you escape, Ma'am?” The officer's eyebrows pulled together as he looked down at her.

“I snuck out of the hotel room after picking the lock on my handcuffs.” She put one hand on her hip and glared at him.

“Okay, Ma'am, where was this hotel?” The officer waited for a response, standing as still as a statue.

“I'm not sure, somewhere near a Goodwill store, I've been walking for hours to get here and it's freezing outside.” Mary still felt like the man taking her statement was only going through the motions.

“Have you had anything to drink lately, Ma'am?” The officer asked. Horrified and stunned, the past middle aged woman's mouth fell open, one hand pressed against her ample bosom.

“I haven't had a drink of anything stronger than coffee in over thirty years, officer and I am very offended that you would even consider asking such a question.” Mary leaned forward, her finger wagging beneath the officer's long, fleshy nose. Her voice rose in both volume and shrillness with every word. A tall, dark haired gentleman came up to the counter, a determined set to his still strong jaw.

“Sgt. Anderson, what's the problem?” The gentleman's deep voice took Mary by surprise, but didn't deter her.

“Who are you?” She asked, acid dripping from her tone.

“Lt. Welsh, Ma'am, what's the problem?” He answered, his keen eyes surveying the red haired woman standing on the other side of the front desk.

“I came to report that I'd been kidnapped and this excuse for an officer asked me, had the audacity, to ask me if I'd been drinking.” Mary's voice had quietened down but she was still boiling mad. Welsh began to look her over even more carefully, she seemed familiar.

“Would you follow me, please, Ma'am?” The lieutenant ushered her through the gate. With narrowed eyes and a pinched mouth, she stepped through. Welsh lagged behind.

“Sgt. Anderson, I'll talk to you before your shift is over.”

Mary let out an annoyed, “Ha!”

“This way, Ms??” Welsh fished for her name.

“I'm Mary O'Connor, at least I once was.” She answered, “I married Li Zhou.”

When Welsh heard that name he immediately knew were he'd seen her face.

“Det. Vecchio, here's the break in the Zhou case.” The lieutenant called out to the young, cotton-topped investigator studying a case file at a desk in the corner. His head bobbed up, almost with a snap. The detective jogged to get to the lieutenant's office before the door closed.

“Ray Vecchio, pleased to meet you.” The young detective offered Mary his hand and a handsome grin.

“Mary O'Connor-Zhou, Detective.” She took the seat offered and sighed. It felt good to sit down.

“You've been ransomed, Ms. Zhou.” Welsh informed her, his hands pressed together at the finger tips.

“The Kendrick Files, that's what they want.” Ray interjected.

“Oh, those, when do they want them?” Her green eyes turned as hard as emeralds.

“Tomorrow.” Walsh checked the desk calendar for the date and time.

“My daughter, Ling, has had them all along.” Mary toyed with an earring as she spoke.

“How's that?” Ray asked bluntly. Mary smiled like the cat who'd eaten the canary.

“The necklace she wears, hidden inside the jade is a computer chip containing all of Kendrick's dirty secrets.” Walsh and Ray exchanged dumbfounded looks.

“I have to call Fraser and Miss Zhou, Sir, I'll be right back.” Ray stood to leave.

“Please, Detective, don't tell my daughter and husband I'm alive just yet, I'd like to explain things face-to-face.” Mary twisted in her seat, turning to catch Ray before he slipped away.

“Alright.” He nodded, then closed the door behind them.

********

A steady line of film credits rolled up the twenty-seven inch screen as the thick skulled goon stood up to stretch his muscles. He'd forgotten to eat and hadn't used the bathroom in hours. Turning around in the small room, he somehow managed to miss the empty bed where Mary should have been. It wasn't until the goon came back from the snack machine that he'd noticed the empty queen sized mattress. The first words out of his mouth would have made a sailor blush. He yanked up the phone and jammed his fat fingers against the telephone key pad. After a few rings he heard a familiar voice,

“Hello?” His thick, Asian accent muddled the word almost beyond recognition.

“Mr. Ping, she's escaped.” The goon waited for the explosion on the other end. All he heard was way too controlled.

“Find her.” the line went dead. The goon hung up the phone, his tiny brain spinning like a caffeinated hamster on a wheel. He picked the phone in and dialed again. He just knew he'd find Mary Zhou before dark.

*********

 


	8. Missing

"Canadian Consulate, Constable Turnbull speaking, how may I help you?" The voice on the other end of the phone line sounded as cheerful as always.

"Turnbull, is Fraser there?" Ray asked imaptiently.

"Yes, Constable Fraser just stepped in, let me transfer you to his extension, one moment please." Turnbull sounded like a machine.

"Unbelievable robot." Ray muttered. It didn't surprise him at all for Fraser to answer the phone with the same, standard greeting.

"Fras, Mary Zhou just came waltzing right into the station, caused ole Anderson a hassle." Ray informed the mountie.

"Wonderful, Ling and her father will be relieved, have you told them yet, Ray?" Benton questioned.

"No, the lady asked me not to, said she wanted to explain the deal herself." Ray's shrug could be heard over the phone.

"I'll call on the Zhou's to let them know we're coming." Fraser grinned at the prospect of seeing Ling again so soon. He thought back to the kiss they'd shared only a few hours before. She'd been the one to initiate it, but Ben had been more than happy to reciprocate. Kissing Ling was something he'd been thinking about all day. The sudden urge toward impulsiveness was rare and new to the trusty mountie.

"I'll be around in a few, Fras." Ray ended the call. The Mountie immediately dialed the Zhou's number. He hoped to hear Ling's musical voice.

"Constable Fraser?" The male voice on the other end of the line threw the Mountie for a loop.

"Yes," He began listening very closely to anything and everything he could hear on the other end.

"We have Zhou and his lovely daughter. The ransom is the same, the Kendrick Files, Wednesday, 801 Alderson."

In the background Fraser could hear Ling crying, calling his name. The fear in her cries stirred anger in Benton; an anger he'd only felt when his father died. The other end of the line went dead, the dial tone chiming in his ear.

"Ling." Ben uttered, aghast. He let the receiver fall to the cradle.

Ray rolled up in the GTO as Fraser hit the sidewalk outside the consulate.

"Ping's men took Mr. Zhou and Ling." The Mountie slid into the black classic before Ray could shut off the ignition.

"Ling has the Kendrick Files, they're hidden in her jade necklace." The Chicago detective turned a quick left beyond the consulate.

"We have a day and a half before the ransom is due." Benton calculated quickly.

"We'll find them sooner than that, Fraser, count on it." Ray assured his Canadian friend.

When Ray pulled the American muscle car up to the curio shop the Mountie flung open the door, unfolding his long legs quickly. Dief bounded out after him. Ray was hot on their heels. Door wide open, the Zhou's curio shop set empty. Fraser's heart sank. He stepped carefully through the floor to ceiling shelf lined shop. Forensics would have to process the scene later.

After sweeping the place visually for Ping's men, he led Ray and Dief into the back room to the stairwell going to the second floor apartment. The front door stood ajar. Benton put a cautioning finger to his lips. As quietly as a stalking cat, the Mountie opened the door all the way and stepped inside. He smelled the scent of loud aftershave before seeing the man through the hinges standing behind the door.

An average size thug put a revolver in Ben's face as the door swung harmlessly back. Ben's jaw clenched. Without blinking, the Mountie struck the thug's hand, disarming him. A right blinded him and broke his nose. Ray drew his service revolver, ready for anything. With his foot, the detective pushed open the door. He found Fraser standing, facing two other thugs. The house had been turned upside down. Couch cushions had been ripped open, pictures hung askew while every container within sight had been dumped.

"Stop right there." Ray ordered, his handgun aimed at the thug in the front. He stood over six feet with a body as thick and solid as any oak tree. The second thug was smaller, but had a nastier, more conniving air about him. Wordlessly, the smaller thug pulled the trigger, his aim at Ray. The detective ducked the shot. The living room vibrated with the sound of the blast. Fraser used the distraction, lunging forward at the bigger thug, football style. Fraser and the thug hit the floor after squashing a coffee table, the thug taking the brunt of the impact. After a struggle, Fraser relieved the big thug of his handgun, breaking his nose in the process. Ray took the smaller thug. Their hand to hand was a little more prolonged. The conniving muscle for hire was slim but tough. It took Ray a while to wrestle his gun away. When he did the thug pulled a knife. Ray jumped back, arching away from the slash.

"Fraser, a little help here." The detective slugged the skinny thug but he kept coming. The Mountie came at him from behind, putting him in a sleeper hold until he slumped to the floor.

" 'bout time there, buddy." Ray picked himself up and began dusting himself off.

"Sorry, Ray, I had my hands full." The Mountie apologized.

"We'd better get these three down to the station." The detective pulled his handcuffs out and began gathering the three thugs together. He tossed Fraser the cell phone to call for back up.

Fifteen minutes later two uniformed officers came through the door. The three thugs sat in the floor, tied up.

"They've had their Maranda Rights, take them to booking." Ray put his foot against the skinny thug's boot roughly. The lead uniform nodded. None too gently, the thugs were escorted to a waiting van.

"Where do we go from here, Fraser?" Ray knew what he wanted to do next but deferred to the mountie because of Ling.

"Interrogation." One word, Ben said one word, but Ray heard the boiling hostility in his voice. Usually the Mountie proceeded with calm deliberation. Now he moved with desperation.

********

Mary Zhou sat with a uniformed officer fresh out of the academy. She glanced at his crisp, young features. He seemed so young, as young as Mary once felt. The last several days were beginning to tell on her.

"Do you remember anything about the hotel you escaped from, Ms. Zhou?" The young officer asked.

"Yes, it was off of an exit, I could probably find it again." Mary looked absently out the two-way mirror nearby.

"That's good, we may have to do that." The young officer agreed.

"Hey, we need to talk." Ray motioned for the young cop to take a hike after he popped his head into the interrogation room. Quickly, he handed over his notes and left the room. Ray and Fraser entered the room, Mary's eyes following them as she sat silently.

"Ms. Zhou, we met earlier, this is Constable Benton Fraser of the RCMP." He hitched a thumb toward the red clad Canadian behind him.

"Hello," she said uncertainly. "What's all this, where is my daughter, my husband?" Her eyes went wide as she looked from one man to the other.

"Ling and Mr. Zhou have been taken, they still want the Kendrick Files." Fraser answered gravely.

"How do we give them something we don't have and they don't know  _they_  have?" Mary threw her hands up in frustration.

"You have a good question, Ms. Zhou." The Mountie conceded.

"What exactly do the files look like?" Ray wondered aloud.

"I told you, they're on a computer chip hidden in the necklace." Mary answered, her mind swirling.

"They don't know what the files look like do they?" An idea began formulating in the detective's brain.

"We could use a false set of files for the, the um, what would you call it, Ray?" Fraser wracked his brain.

"The switch, it's called a switch, Fraser." Ray informed him just as he'd done about a thousand other things.

"Are you sure that will work, what if they want proof? They'll kill Ling and Li if they suspect." The once missing woman became upset. Her hand cradled one side of her face, tears sparkling in her eyes. Fraser took a seat in front of the trembling woman. He met her gaze steadily.

"Nothing will happen to Ling, you have my word, Mrs. Zhou." The Mountie took her free hand between his. She saw a wealth of care and genuine concern in his green eyes. Mary just nodded. His reassurance made her feel a little bit better.

"If Ping wants proof we're gonna have to make it believable." Ray rubbed his dry hands together, ready to get down to business.

********


	9. Cooperation

Ling trembled as she sat on the cold, damp, cement floor. She could feel her father leaning against her side. They'd been sitting tied up for hours.

“Everything be okay, your funny policeman friend find us soon.” Mr. Zhou spoke confidently.

“I hope so, Father.” Ling's voice trembled. She knew Fraser would save her if he could. Ling simply wasn't sure he could find them. The four men who'd busted into the curio shop had hustled Ling and her father into the back of a delivery van. They had put bandannas over their eyes and zip-tied their hands and feet.

“Fraser find us, you see.” Mr. Zhou insisted.

“He will if he can, Father, there's no way to tell anyone where we're at.” Ling sighed. Her hands were beginning to go numb and her father had started coughing. It was likely to be a long, rough wait.

“We okay.” Ling's father insisted again. She ardently hoped so.

_**Interrogation …** _

Ray strolled into the first interrogation room, his shoulder holster on but empty. The seasoned investigator's diamond blue eyes were alive with determination. The three thugs-for-hire didn't move when they saw the wiry, blond cop.

Fraser walked in behind Ray, quiet, confident and different from any kind of law enforcement they'd ever encountered. They remembered how easily the Canadian had disarmed them only hours before. When he walked in the men sat up and took notice.

“Hello, boys,” Ray greeted them, a nasty smirk on his features. Gingerly, he took one of the heavy, metal chairs and perched on the seat backward, his arms crossed over the back.

“We want to talk to our lawyers, we don't have nuthin' to say to the two of you.” The big thug began.

“As you wish, gentlemen.” Fraser stepped up to the table in the center of the room. He perched on the corner of the table, his arms crossed over his chest. “Detective Vecchio and I are here to inform you that should something happen that would result in either Li Zhou or Ling Zhou's death you will be charged as accessories to murder.” Fraser met their questioning gazes without a waver.

“Or maybe negligent homicide, if the DA is nice, and they ain't.” Ray grinned menacingly. “That means what, a life sentence, twenty-five years. You'll all be old geezers before you see daylight again.” the detective calculated with a shrug.

“Their sentences could be considerably lighter if the Zhous are found unharmed, correct, Ray?” The Mountie asked as if to clarify for his own understanding.

“Yeah, the judge and the DA could have pity on 'em I guess, they'd have to cooperate though.” The detective answered as if they were alone in the room. When the Mountie saw the thugs exchange glances he knew Ray's plan had worked.

“We'll cooperate, but only with our lawyers in the room.” The smaller thug spoke up.

“I'll go set it up.” Ray stood up to leave the small, poorly lit room. Fraser lingered in the interrogation room. All three thugs looked at each other, nervous about what might happen next. The Mountie stood erect, hands behind his back.

“Whatever Mr. Ping or Mr. Silvestri has offered you to abduct the Zhous is light, or should be, in comparison to the burden on your souls. The Zhous are innocent people who harm no one. You can still lift some of that burden by telling the authorities where they are before anything happens.” Fraser walked out of the interrogation room without another word. The three thugs sat dumbfounded.

“Did you go all Canadian cray on 'em or what?” Ray asked, his blue eyes dancing.

“No, Ray, why would I? They're hardened criminals, it wouldn't affect them.” The Mountie shrugged. Ray shook his head, amazed at the Mountie's calm demeanor.

“If it were my girlfriend, I'd be goin' nuts, why aren't you going crazy, Fraser?” the replacement detective asked, running his fingers through his hair.

“Because, Ray, anger and theatrics only put these hired minions on guard.” The Mountie responded as if it were the most natural thought in the world. Ray shook his head, annoyed. Mary walked up to the two officers, her hands wringing.

“Constable Fraser, are you certain Ping and Silvestri will be convinced the information in the files is real?” She looked from one man to the other for reassurance; guidance.

“Yes, Ms. Zhou, from the information you gave us and our files, it should be quite convincing.” Fraser replied with a smile. Her lips pulled upward but Mary's hands continued to wring.

“Constable, can you and I have a word, please?”

Courteously, Benton showed her to the nearest interrogation room. He pulled out her chair and watched her sink into it. She peered up at him, her lips pursed.

“Would I be wrong in assuming you have a more than professional interest in my daughter, Constable Fraser?” she studied the younger man seated before her. He swallowed before meeting her eye.

“No, ma'am, you would not be wrong.” A nervous smiled pulled at Fraser's firm lower lip.

“How long?” Mary asked softly.

“Only a few days, we shared a meal at a local restaurant.” Fraser recalled how Ling had looked at him when he'd helped her up.

“You don't seem like the type who's smitten very often or very easily, Constable.” Mary gave him a knowing smile, her green eyes glistening. Benton simply nodded in agreement.

“Ling doesn't know, does she?”

Fraser again answered with a nod.

“I sense the two of you are very much alike, shy.” Mary smiled, her cheeks dimpling.

Fraser smiled politely.

“She needs someone to talk to, to confide in.” The lady reached out to Fraser.

“How do you know so much about Ling, Ms. Zhou?” The Mountie asked, his gaze steady on the lady's face. She smiled, guilty and caught red handed.

“Nana Lu, she talks to Li and Ling then she talks to me.” Mary shrugged, “I left them for their own good but I still love them.” Fraser saw the mist in her green eyes.

“I see.” Ben couldn't find anything else to say. Just because you can't be with someone doesn't mean you don't care, don't love them or think about them. Ben knew that all too well.

“Hey, Frase, the three thugs, one of them gave us an address. Their lawyers signed off on it.” Ray popped his head into the interrogation room.

“Thank you, Ray,” Fraser stood up to leave. “If you'll excuse me, Ms. Zhou.” He nodded before pulling on is Stetson.

“I know you'll bring them back safe, Constable Fraser.” Mary called from the interrogation room door way. Ben turned, and with a smile, nodded.

********

The GTO's dual exhaust rumbled like an avalanche as Ray cruised through one of Chicago's forgotten neighborhoods. A once thriving, Baby Boom era neighborhood, houses now sat empty or with temporary tenants. Once lovely rose bushes ran amok and crippled cars sat strewn up one side of the street and down the other.

“I should have driven a cruiser 'er somethin'.” Ray worried as he surveyed the residents watching the mint condition muscle car roll by all waxed and shining from their porch stoops.

“I'm sure Diefenbaker will guard the car. He makes some of the uniformed officers uneasy anyway.” Fraser heard an annoyed groan from the back seat.

“Is he still growling at 'em over the jelly doughnuts in the break room?” Ray grinned.

“Yes.” Fraser answered in an accusatory tone. Dief snorted then began looking out the car window.

“Here we go.” Ray shoved the car in park across the street from a small, white house with an over grown lawn and boarded up windows.

“Did they say where the Zhous are being held?” Fraser whispered as he followed Ray around the house, scouting. The detective shrugged, unsure. Coming to the back of the house, Fraser pointed to himself then to the nearest basement window. His friend gave him a thumbs up, his service revolver drawn. Quietly, the Mountie lifted the narrow, glass window. Down on his tush, Ben slid feet first into the dank basement.

Ling heard Fraser's boots hit the cement. From the light of the single, naked bulb overhead he could see her smiling face. Ben smiled at her, glad she was unharmed. Mr. Zhou lay leaned against the cement wall and Ling's shoulder. From overhead the Mountie heard the wooden stairs begin to creak. Ling's happiness turned to fear. Ben up a silencing finger to his lips. Quickly, he flattened himself against the wall beside the bottom step. A slight built, Asian man hurried down the steps, a handgun in one hand. When he stopped just shy of the bottom step and leaned over the two-by-four hand rail. Fraser seized the only opportunity he knew he was likely to have and grabbed the gun, pulling the man over the rail with it. He landed on the cement, cursing in Chinese.

“Mr. Ping, Chicago PD is on the way. I suggest you surrender now.” Fraser spoke authoritatively as he stared down at the furious Asian.

“You will pay for this, my reach is longer than you can imagine.” Ping fumed as he dragged himself to his feet. His threats were wasted on Fraser. The Mountie's gaze never wavered, his blue eyes as hard as diamonds.

“Hey, Fraser, you okay down there?” Ray called from the top step.

“Yes, Ray, everything is fine.” Fraser never took his eyes off Ping until the detective had him covered. Only then did he move to free Ling and Mr. Zhou.

“Are you alright?” The Mountie knelt down at their feet, his knife working on the zip-ties easily.

“I'm fine, but my father, he is frail.” Ling's eyes plead for his help. Uniformed officers came tromping down the stairs, EMT's on their heels.

“You'll be alright.” Fraser helped the EMT's load Mr. Zhou onto a back board. Ling followed her father out of the house. An officer drove her to the hospital. She turned to wave at the Mountie before the car pulled away. Fraser stood among all the flashing lights, watching her leave. Ping had been arrested and had already asked for a lawyer.

“Well, buddy, we saved the girl, again.” Ray walked up to the Mountie, a satisfied grin on his face.

“Yes, we did, Ray.” The Mountie adjusted his Stetson as he continued to watch the fading cruiser.

“Now what?” Ray asked, leaning against the GTO.

“Now we take Mary Zhou to the hospital, if you don't mind.” Fraser motioned toward the vintage vehicle. Ray simply nodded.

********

 


	10. Reunion

Mary and her family's reunion after twenty years was as to be expected. There was both happiness and hard feelings. Mary had missed so much of Ling's childhood. That had left her feeling lost and lonely. Still, Ling was happy to see her mother after so long. Together, Ling and Mary stood beside Mr. Zhou, tears streaming down their cheeks.

Fraser stood in the hospital lobby giving the family space and privacy. He knew Ling would seek him out when she needed him. The Mountie didn't expect that would be any time soon. Her family was complete again.

“How's the old man doing?” Ray clapped his friend on the shoulder as he stood looking out the lobby window.

“Mr. Zhou is diabetic, he hadn't eaten in several hours. He'll make a full recovery in the next few days.” Fraser let a small smile pull at his firm lower lip for a moment as he studied his boots for a moment.

“How about the girl?” The detective took a different tack.

“Ling, she's fine.” The Mountie couldn't look at his friend and he didn't know exactly why.

“Constable Fraser.” The officers turned when they heard the musical sound of the young Asian-American's voice.

“Ah, Miss Zhou.” A glow emanated from the Canadian.

“Constable Fraser, visiting hours are over. I was wondering if I perhaps you would escort my mother and me back to the shop?” Ling blushed slightly. Her jade green eyes never left his face. They nearly disappeared when she smiled.

“I'll call you all a cab.” Ray offered leaving the two alone in the lobby. Ling thanked him.

“Thank you kindly, Ray.” The Mountie extended his arm to escort Ling back to the hospital room, his hand covering the young woman's as they walked down the hallway.

“Constable Fraser, thank you so much for saving my daughter and my husband.” Mary walked around the foot of the hospital bed and wrapped her arms around the Mountie's neck, squeezing him tightly. Needless to say, Fraser turned as red as his uniform at the woman's unexpected, warm thanks. Ling had to stifle a giggle as she watched Ben flounder helplessly.

“Ms. Zhou, ah, Ray has called a cab, if you'd like to go back to the apartment and rest perhaps.” She smiled up at him, slightly enjoying the way he squirmed and blushed.

“That would be a blessing, thank you.” Mary latched herself onto the Mountie's arm. Grinning, Ling took the other arm.

“Two lovely ladies.” Mr. Zhou grinned from the comfort of the hospital bed. Mary blew her husband a kiss.

“Yes, two lovely ladies.” Fraser agreed with a bashful smile.

Fraser escorted the Zhous back to the apartment over the curio shop. Mary Zhou was glad to be somewhere where she could eat a real meal and clean up. The apartment was still a wreck after the three thugs' trashing session. Mary immediately laid both hands on her face, one on either cheek.

“Oh dear, what a mess.” Ling exclaimed as she stepped inside after her mother. Together, the three brought the small apartment back to some semblance of order. By the time the place was fit to sit down in the city street lights had been on for quite sometime. The night crowd had been on the move for a while, coming and going from place to place despite the snow on the ground.

“Thank you again, Constable Fraser, for all your help.” Mary took his hand for a moment. Fraser simply nodded, his Stetson in his other hand. As he took leave of the Zhous, Ling followed him to the door. Her dark hair bordered her angular face. She closed the door behind Fraser as he stepped out into the hallway. She rubbed her hands together, a chill hanging in the air around them. Fraser took her hands in his and held them, warming her fingers. He wanted to see her smiling face for as long as possible.

“Thank you for saving me, Ben.” She looked up at him through long, dark lashes, her jade green eyes shining. Slowly, she pulled his hands to where they circled her waist. Ben pulled her closer, smiling. In true, Hollywood style, he leaned down and pulled her into a breath-taking kiss. From a distance Ben could hear the shrill, lilting sound of flute music. He was once more transported to the high, cold, mist covered mountains. This time the Mountie wasn't alone.

*******

 


	11. The End

Ray sat at his desk working on dreaded paperwork when Fraser sat down across the desk from him. Diefenbaker trotted up to the desk, his amber eyes trained on the bear claw laying on a napkin near the detective's coffee.

“Good morning, Ray.” The Canadian tossed his Stetson onto the hat rack, his aim never failing.

“Hey, Frase,” With an ink pen the blond detective pulled the bear claw closer. Dief groaned before trotting off to the break room. “How did it go last night?” Ray looked up from the third report of the morning and took a bite of his mid-morning pastry.

“How did what go, Ray?” Fraser asked blandly.

“Taking the girl, uh, Ling, taking her home, how did it go?” The replacement detective leaned back in his desk chair as he waited for the Mountie to spill.

“It went without a hitch, Ray.”

The detective gave his unofficial partner a sly grin.

“You've got it bad for her don't ya?” As soon as the sentence was out Ray had his answer. Ben began to smooth his eyebrow, avoiding eye contact.

“Yep, ole Bennie's got it bad.” The detective pressed harder.

“Ray, nonsense, Ling and I have only known each other a brief time.” Fraser met his friend's gaze, his dark blue eyes wide in innocence.

“You don't have to know her for years on end to have what ya call it, ah, biology, nah,” Ray tapped his knuckles against his forehead trying to recall the right word.

“Chemistry, Ray.” Ben supplied.

“Yeah, chemistry, you two got tons of it.” Ray's diamond blue eyes shone as he chewed on his chocolate covered bear claw. Neither the Mountie nor the detective got another word in before the phone rang.

“Hello, Ray here.” He answered lazily. After listening a moment he handed the handset to Fraser.

“Hello, Constable Fraser here.” Ben racked his brain as to who could be calling.

“Ben, this is Ling, are you free for dinner tonight, _Kane's Dinner Box_ at eight?” She set the place and time before he could get a word in edgewise.

“Yes, I'll see you there, give my regards to your parents.” The line went dead abruptly in the Mountie's ear.

“What'd she have to say?” Ray pounced, on the edge of his seat.

“Ling asked me to dinner tonight at the restaurant where we met.” A worried expression knit the usually unflappable Canadian's brow. Something about the way Ling had been so quick seemed ominous. Ben prayed she wasn't in trouble of some sort. His heart tightened in his chest.

“Sounds good.” Ray grinned. Ben simply nodded, wishing his friend would drop the subject altogether.

“How is the case coming?” The Mountie changed the subject. Ray frowned.

“Ping lawyered up, the thugs cooperated and the District Attorney is dealing with Silvestri and Kendrick's lawyers. The paper pushers will tie this up for years.” Both officers had seen the paper stall too many times to hold out much hope for real justice.

“At least Mary Zhou is back home with her family. Somehow the media got hold of the whole thing, splashed her picture all over the newspapers.” Ray grinned mischievously as he finished his pastry and coffee.

****

 


	12. Song List

**Author's Note**

I listened to these songs, but not necessarily in this order, as I wrote this. I always sensed that Fraser could be a very introspective character. These just helped me get into the right mood to write.

 

Someone Else's Star – Bryan White

She Can't Say I Didn't Cry – Rick Trevino

Nobody Knows But Me – Kevin Sharp

Anymore – Travis Tritt

What Mattered Most – Ty Herndon

You're Gone – Diamond Rio

Secret Door – Evanescence

Swimming Home- Evanescence

My Immortal – Evanescence

Listen to the Rain-Evanescence

Someday Love Will Come- Vince Gill

Bittersweet- Apocalyptica

Trail of the Angels; Bamboo Flute Chinese Music [http://youtu.be/ABOxTtxJxNw](http://youtu.be/ABOxTtxJxNw)

God Gave Me You- Blake Shelton

Lost- Little Big Town

I Can't Go There- Kenny Chesney

The Hunger-Steve Holy

 


End file.
